18. Sister Republic

Date Written: February 6, 2019

Date Posted: July 6, 2019

Characters: Veneziano, Genoa

Summary: Veneziano confronts one of his ambitious siblings and puts them in their place.

Notes: Before you say anything, I know that Genoa is a canon character and he's portrayed as a curly headed boy with a crown on his head. (Why? I don't know). Secondly, the confrontation between Genoa and Veneziano is a reference to the first of the Venetian-Genoese Wars (War of Saint Sabas from 1256-1270). To cut a small story short, Venice and Genoa were getting on each other's nerves by disputing over trade routes, land, etc. While Genoa tried to evade attacking, Venice employed naval forces, which caused a decisive winner in Venice's part. Furthermore, I mentioned Pisa a few times because n the War of Saint Sabas, Pisa sided with Venice. (Hence the reason why Veneziano has a Pisan dagger on his person...I don't think Pisa was ever known for its daggers or weaponry, but I have creative license, so there!). For further information, just look up the Venetian-Genoese Wars anywhere on the net and you'll see.

Venice looked at his sister, Genoa, before glancing at what appeared to be crates of spices and satchels filled with relics from neighboring countries. Although he was more than a foot taller than his younger sister, the fire in her amber eyes nearly cowed him. However, to say that he was shocked to see that his western based sibling was after his wares was a major misdirection. After Genoa had shamed her fellow republic, Pisa, on their shared side of the peninsula, she had set her sights on her older brother—a fact that Venice was more than aware of.

At this point in time, Venice had established a government and a trading empire along the Adriatic. Money was the main language he spoke and understood. Consequently, he was perhaps the strongest republic in all of Italy, a fact that annoyed the other comunes—Genoa being the closest in terms of power and ambition to Venice.

"Stealing my profit, Genoa? And I thought you had honor." The Venetian crossed his arms, a look of fraternal disappointment mocking her. "You're not going to grow any bigger if you keep on chasing after my greatness."

"Don't mock me." Her teeth were bared while her fists clenched at her sides. She had been so close to taking Venice's wares, but she had no idea that he would be present. Idiota! "We all know that you mark up the prices so high that you basically swindle the rest of Europe into bowing at your feet!"

The older republic shrugged, the carelessness of the action only serving to anger his sister further.

"Do I look like I have a care for how the rest of the world sees how I do business? My pockets are fuller and their homes are rich with culture." A smile that had too much teeth to be even considered kind settled on his lightly tanned skin. "Everyone is happy."

"I'm not."

"Should I care?" Venice shrugged again, smirking to himself when Genoa let out a yelp of indignation. If there was one thing Venice loved to do, it was tease his siblings over their lack of power that he so obviously possessed and flaunted. "I do believe that your happiness has nothing to do with me. Now go away before I punish you."

Genoa stiffened at that threat. Although she was just as ruthless and cunning as any Mediterranean Nation worth their salt, she didn't like engaging in violence. While Venice wouldn't bat an eye to resorting to unsavory methods to attain victory, Genoa was remarkably more keen on focusing on their shared rivalry over becoming the most powerful republic on their peninsula.

Stealing the competition away from Venice was more than enough for her.

However…

The curly haired child took one look at the gloating expression on her brother's face before swinging forward with a closed fist.

When Genoa struck, she struck fast and hard.

For a moment, Venice looked at his sister with dumbfounded shock. He had keeled over from the sudden lancing strike of pain before he abruptly straightened from his vulnerable position. Although Nations looked and acted like humans, their strength was often equated to that of a group of strapping young men.

Genoa could have killed a simple man.

But Genoa merely sparked the anger that would light the fire that blazed in the Venetian's soul.

Just when Genoa was about to steal away with her stolen goods, Venice stood up from his keeled over position and launched himself at his younger sibling. Genoa, who had thought that she could have accounted for all the variables, merely tried side stepping away from Venice.

Wrong move.

Venice may have been a trader in occupation and an artist at heart, but he was still a ruthless Nation.

And Nations, whether they liked it or not, fought for the good of their people and their interests.

And right now, Venice was interested in making sure that Genoa knew what she was getting into when she dared to attack him like that.

As Genoa tried to evade conflict from her elder sibling to the east, Venice had other plans in mind.

Hidden in the sleeves of his tunic, he had a little gift that he just so happened to receive from another little sister named Pisa. Like Genoa, Pisa was a maritime republic on the western side of the Italian peninsula. Unlike her sister, however, Pisa sided with Venice and had decided to bestow upon her older brother with a little surprise if Genoa's greed were to surpass even Venice's.

That little surprise was now slicing a slit into the expensive cloth that Genoa had foolishly garbed herself in.

A Pisan dagger.

"Y-you—!" Genoa stumbled to the ground, her tears falling down her cheeks as she tried to stem the bleeding from the shallow cut that Venice had masterfully bestowed upon her. It went without saying: if Venice wanted, he really could have killed her where she stood. "How dare—"

Something hit her across her jaw and had her head whipping back to the side.

She clutched her cheek in reddened embarrassment.

Of course, she thought. Of course that stupid Venetian had the gall to kick his enemy to the ground when they were already kneeling and ready to yield.

Without further ado, he bent down and angled his face in an almost apologetic expression. For such a tasteless display, he looked downright remorseful and penitent. However, Genoa knew him well enough to see past his innocent exterior: the Venetian was looking down at her with all of the haughty pride of one who was far too ambitious and cunning for his own good.

The auburn haired Nation looked down at his sister with the disdainful disposition one would reserve for the royalty gawking at the poor. So embarrassed and angry, Genoa had no choice but to hold her tongue and listen carefully to what her fellow maritime republic had to say to her.

"Genoa...I love you like a sister, but," here, Venice grabbed hold of her chin and began to squeeze the unblemished skin with his nails. "I want you to understand that I won't stand for any further transgressions." He squeezed even harder when his sister refused to look at him. "Do you understand?"

And Genoa, with the bravery and recklessness of newborn Nations with dewy eyed gazes, looked up at her brother with the look of one who has lost everything, but had the will to gain something, anything for victory.

She spat at his face.

He stuck the Pisan dagger into her midsection.

And as Venice stalked away with what was supposed to be his rightful boon of the Mediterranean trade, the young Nation began to think long and hard on what she was supposed to do from there on out.